Bestial
by Alexandra P. Useless
Summary: Mortimer Toynbee is fighting a deadly demon - Himself… And with the assistance of the most unlikely mutant; Ororo Munro. Will mixed emotions cloud her mind when making the ultimate decision? Rating for Chapters to come.
1. Default Chapter

**Bestial**

**Rating For Disturbing imagery and themes**

**Warnings: See rating,**

**Spoilers: ones thLook out. There's two. I'd tell you which ones they are… But that'd be considered a _spoiler!_**

**Pairings: Hints of Ororo/Kurtness…. No one for Mort, unfortunately.**

**Summery: Mortimer Toynbee is fighting a deadly demon - Himself… And with the assistance of the most unlikely mutant; Ororo Munro. But will unwanted emotions cloud her mind when she is called to make the ultimate decision?**

* * *

"How is it today, Mortimer?"

"… It is good"

"Who is in control today?"

"…"

"Who is in control today, Mortimer?'

"Mortimer is in control today."

"Good…"

A smile, beautiful and angelic… Perfect, even.

"Do you want to talk today?"

A pair of golden eyes, tormented, tortured, gazed fearfully at thin air.

"Mortimer, look at me."

The eyes drifted up to meet those of pure blue. Their weariness. Their wariness. The dulled pleading in

them; 'Don't be mad', was enough to break her heart.

"Would you like to talk today?"

He shook his head wearily averting his eyes from hers once again.

She frowned, staring at him through the glass looking into his cell.

"Would you like to go on a walk?"

His eyes shot back up to meet hers, the shy delight of a child evident in the liquid black and swirling gold.

"Is that a yes?"

* * *

The greenhouse.

It had been her sanctuary for years, sometimes the only place she could find solitude. As a result,

it was the only place now where the professor would allow her to take Mortimer on their excursions. The

lush greenery, heat induced moisture, and humid temperatures had created a compatible atmosphere for the

sensitive amphibianoid, enough so that he even chanced a few casual words to her now and then.

She responded heartily, linking her arm into his and smiling gently. There had been a time when his words

had been bold and witty… Refreshing in a way. Now his dialect was so simple…. She felt anger stir deep

within her chest. She turned the temptation away.

The acrid smell of sulfur assaulted her nostrils - A scent that might have offended other, but she

found familiar and even went as far as to welcome it…. She located the glowing eyes of her elf-eared lover

in seconds, giving him a 'shame on you' glare when Mortimer wasn't looking. Kurt hadn't approved of

Ororo's caring for the x-assassin from the beginning, and checked up on the two on a regular basis during

their sessions.

She sighed now, turning away from the teleporting mutant to sadly observe the ambling green man.

There had been a time when he would have sensed the teleporter's presence in an instant. He would have

gauged her emotions, detected the changes in her breath, her heart rate. She winced, blotting away the

memories of what had caused all that to change. It wasn't worth it.

"Come on, Mortimer…. It's time to go back inside." He was crouching on the ground, studying a

fern leaf, running his fingers over the delicate stem carefully. He was deaf to her words, fascination

abounding over all else. She realized, only too late, the species of the plant he was handling, and reached

out in warning. Mortimer's hand jerked away, and he curled into himself with a yelp of surprise and pain.

Ororo crouched beside him, working his hand away from his chest to peer at the wound that the thorn had

left.

"It hurt me," he stated in shock, staring accusingly at the hybrid fern plant. "It hurt me."

"Yes, Mortimer. It hurt you. Didn't I tell you _not_ to touch the plants you don't know?"

He looked away, a child's stubborn defiance showing in the pooch of his lower lip and the thrust of his chin.

She repeated herself. "Didn't I tell you not to touch the plants you don't know?" He looked up to meet her

gaze once again, submitting instantly, like a youth to his mother. "I'm sorry…."

The stern frown on her lips faded instantly, and she patted his hand comfortingly. "It's okay." He

nodded sharply, repeatedly, assured by her friendly tones. She pulled him to his feet. "Let's go."

* * *

Flash back

* * *

Three years ago, she had stared at this same man through eyes of hellish opaque, observing the

same hatred on his sallow face for her as she harbored for him.

Thirty six months ago, she had set the lighting to him, watched in satisfaction as he tumbled

lifelessly away.

One thousand and ninety five days ago, approximately, a pair of drunks had pulled him from the

wrath of the sea. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

* * *

End Flash Back

* * *

**So... What do you think? Have you figured out what's up with Mort? Should I Terminate this? I desperately need a Beta reader for the rest of the story. My finding one directly affects my continuing in this...**

**Review! So commands the LAVA SPEWING RED RUBBER DUCK!**


	2. Chapter One

**Here we are. Extra love going out to all of you who reviewed and offered to beta, you've been wonderful!**

* * *

Ororo placed the sandwich on the table quietly, touching Mortimer's forearm gently to rouse him

from his daze. "Come on Mortimer, eat up." He responded like clockwork, something she couldn't quite

decide was a measure of his loyalty to her, or his training under Magneto - Instant Gratification. Do what

you're told, avoid punishment. Contradict orders, expect pain. At any rate, he ate ravenously, barely

pausing for a breath.

The professor had given his consent at her request to have him eat in her quarters occasionally, so

that he might have a bit more time out of his cell. She watched him sadly. Already there was little chance

of his ever permanently leaving the cell, for his safety as much as others.

"Use you napkin, Mortimer."

Flinch

"Sorry, Ms. Munro."

_Does thunder have a smell? _Storm sniffed the air doubtfully, perched with her legs crossed elegantly on the balcony railing just outside of her quarters. A student had asked her the peculiar question over a melting bowl of vanilla ice cream. Her first answer would most certainly have _no_, have known the elements for the better part of her life… But then, she had never truly stopped to ponder possibility… She watched lightning streak recklessly across the blackening sky. There was a _real_ storm brewing here, not one of her own. She could taste the energy on the wind - it was a colossus, as dark and foreboding as she could have hoped for. _If you can taste the energy, can you smell the thunder?_ She sniffed again, more thoughtfully. No, sound didn't have a smell… Did it? _Shouldn't a physics teacher know this already?_

Her thoughts, ever so meaningless, were brought to an abrupt halt as the _real_ peel of thunder roared through the clouds. The balcony positively _vibrated_ under her… How she loved the glory of a summer storm. Unfortunately, a troubling thought stumbled rudely into her mind - _Mortimer._ She stood briskly, her fair locks fluttering about her face like snow white tapestries, hanging in her eyes and obstructing her view. She pushed them aside impatiently, breezing through her room and down the hall, her mind on the matter at hand.

000

For reasons quite obvious, problems often arose concerning Mortimer and Thunder storms… The solution, one that Ororo hardly approved of, was a heavy sedation that wore off after and hour or so - Long enough for the storm to pass. The drug, however, had rather unpleasant side affects… She shuddered sadly.

0000000

"No!" Mortimer leapt with cat-like grace away from Dr. McCoy, the image of a child waiting for his shot. Mortimer hated needles. God knew why. Ororo entered the holding cell with a determined pace, replacing all traces of worry with a mask of motherly care, a charming grin taking to her lips. "Mort, come on now, you know it won't hurt…" She tilted her head coaxingly, eyeing him as he clung feverishly to the wall.

"He hurt me…" His voice, young and innocent… Soft. Not nearly enough to account for the years he had seen… For the _hell_ he had been through.

"He doesn't try to, Mortimer. It'll make you feel better. Come on down." She extended a hand, feeling a sigh of relief from Dr. McCoy as Mortimer reached out to accept it. "It's okay, Mortimer…"

000

The sedations took affect in seconds, leaving him drowsy and listless. He lay on the steel-framed bunk that Xavier had supplied his cell with, his eyes closed but not having fallen completely into slumber. Ororo had seated herself beside his bed, a hefty children's book open on her lap. Stroking his forehead gently, clammy though it was, she began to read, her voice filling the lonely room like only and angel's could.

_"Rain fell that night, a fine, whispering rain. Many years later, Meggie had only close her eyes and she could still hear it, like tiny fingers tapping on the window pane. A dog barked some where in the darkness and however often she tossed and turned. Meggie couldn't get to sleep." _

It wasn't three sentences more before a muffled snore interrupted the flow of words fluttering from her lips… She looked to Mortimer's face, closing the book with a sigh. Now it was only to wait for the worst.

000

The first nightmare reared it's ugly head in only moments, dragging a cry of fear from the slumbering man. Storm flinched. Conflict battled out beneath the green mutant's eye lids as he whimpered feebly. She slipped a set of slender fingers into his, cooing to him and going as far as to kiss his brow, like only a mother would. His skin had broken forth in sweat, which she dabbed tentatively at with her shirt sleeve.

"God…"

* * *

**Crappy closing for this, I know, but I haven't much time for this chapter, so bear with me. Gah! the spacing isdreadfull at the moment, Fanfiction's prob, not mine.**


	3. Chapter Two

_Rain fell that night, a fine, whispering rain. _

_Many years later, Meggie had only close _

_her eyes and she could still hear it, like_

_tiny fingers tapping on the window pane._

_A dog barked some where in the darkness,_

_and however often she tossed and turned,_

_Meggie couldn't get to sleep._

Yes, it was childish, but the quality of Cornelia Funke's writing was too much to pass up.

Mortimer had slipped into a true slumber only an hour or so before, and now that the drugs had worn off,

she could be sure that there'd be no more specters to haunt his dreams…. _Well…. _She frowned, knowing

there would always be that haunting fear….

_"_Ms Munro?"

Ororo looked up from the engrossing dialogue of her book, blushing red in the cheeks at being

discovered pouring over a children's novel. "Yes Bobby?"

"It's Toa-" he paused, wary of her impending glare, "-Mr. Toynbee. He's having one of his fits

again."

Hearing this, she promptly set reading aside, drawing a bathrobe over her revealing night attire and

pushing past an awestruck Iceman.

* * *

Flashback

* * *

One thousand and ninety five day ago, two drunks had pulled him from the wrath of the sea - out of

the frying pan, into the fire.

Mutant hatred had found an outlet that night… And for the next seven months.

Seven months. Two hundred and ten days. Five thousand and forty hours of pure hell. Darkness and pain.

His screaming until his words were nothing more than unintelligible gibberish. His limbs beaten useless.

When Xavier had finally detected him… It had been nearly too late.

* * *

End Flashback

* * *

Ororo arrived in the holding facility, jogging down the hall of bared doors and energy barriers, her

face betraying thoughts of panic.

Xavier was already there, along with a scowling Logan, a stone-faced Scott, and a frightened

Marie.

_ How can you just stand there?_ She thought, glaring at their team leader angrily. Truly, there was

nothing the visored man could do, any way. Nonetheless, she elbowed past them brusquely, ignoring the

look of disagreement from Xavier. She stepped cautiously up to the window, placing a hand on the glass

and peering in.

Mortimer crouched in the center of the room, his chest heaving angrily as he glared at the air about

him. His cell was ransacked; Cot over turned, side table smashed, television in multiple corners. Other

items, mangled past identification, lay strewn about the room. She pressed a com button, calling softly into

the receiver, "Mortimer, what have you done?"

He turned with a snarl at the uttered name, leaping gracefully across the room to cling to the

window. "Don't use that name, weather witch." Storm winced. His voice, in norm, so soft and gentle, was

now sharp, dripping with anger and disdain. "M'name's _Toad._ Mark that, woman. It'd be a mistake on

your part to forget."

The X-men shifted uneasily behind her, their hackles rising as they watched the glimpses of an old

rival slinging arrogant threats. Toad's eyes shifted wrathfully upon them, his voice rang out scathingly,

"What're yah looking' at!" He leapt away from the glass, landing gracefully amongst the wreckage. He

sent a chair careening into the wall, splinters flew. "D'yah think this is funny! D'yah love this! D'like

watching me from behind the glass!" He turned away with a snarl. "Damn ya'hall to hell!"

Ororo called patiently into the receiver, "Mortimer. Calm yourself. You don't want to do this.

_You_ are in control, not Toad." Those eyes, golden and writhing with hatred, turned on her. "Mortimer has

no control here, witch. He is nothing." A fierce, malicious grin spread across his face. "You know that,

don't you, witch?" She was forced to look away, averting her eyes from his. He leapt again, his face was

now inches from hers, his voice softer. "Don't you?"

She turned away. These fits had been emerging more and more often, bringing out the cruel side

in Mort. All the years of torment and anger and sweat and tears… All associated with the single degrading

name that had been thrust upon his by humanity - Toad. The worst of it was, the spells had been getting

longer. Now as the green man shrugged away from the glass to stalk across the short expanse of his room,

she knew there was not much in her power she could do to defend his mind but refer to her least favored

tactic. Folding her arms across her chest and bowing her head, she whispered the weighted words to Scott.

"Give him the tranquilizer." She walked away.

* * *

**Thanks to all the lovely peeps who reviewed, it made me want to write more.**

**To Nytilc, yes, good guess, it was Inkheart I quoted...**


	4. Chapter Three

**Ah! more reviews! It makes me want to write more!**

* * *

'The Tranquilizer' consisted of a non-lethal gas that usually left it's victims drowsy and docile, and often very agreeable. It was with out color, taste, or scent, and the only hint of action in the cell that suggested the gas's presence were the tell-tale plumes of fumes, curling from the ventilation shaft - A shaft that was exclusive only to Mortimer 's cage. The bad contaminated air would leave back out the duct with ten minutes after he had been subdued, and properly cleansed by the mansion's air sanitizing facilities, and recycled back into the outside world.

Ororo watched painfully as Mortimer eventually went slipped to the floor, where he sat, dazed, staring blankly at nothing in particular. Scott had already begun to drain the bad air from the cell, and as soon as the minute glow of red beside the door turned green, signaling safety, she went to enter what she had always referred to as _The Cage_.

But before she could open the door and cross over the threshold, there was suddenly the familiar scent of brimstone in the air, and Kurt was beside her, a three fingered hand wrapped protectively and with a tone of restraint about her arm. She turned, her eyes cool and defiant, to meet his gaze with an ice-woman glare to assure him that she would have no distractions from her task. But her irritated stare melted as eyes of blue met pleading eyes of gold. She touched his hand gingerly, "It's okay Kurt, he won't hurt me." Kurt nodded sadly, glancing eerily at Mortimer's slumped form.

He did not speak very often, least of all when he worried. Ororo had learned to understand the flood of prayers obviously flickering about in his moon-stone eyes. He released her, stepping away to indicate he would not impede her. Before stepping inside the cage, she just barely noted his lips mouthing the cherished words; Our Father, who is in heaven…

The others shifted uncomfortably, obviously still disturbed by her walking into the midst of a 'heartless killer'. The professor said nothing though, just sat with his hands folded upon his lap, his eyes, flooded with they usual fatherly warmth, trained straight into nothingness as he focused on Mortimer's weakened mind. She took a determined breath before stepping bravely into the cell.

Mortimer sat drearily on the floor, his better and worse half battling each other feebly and at the same time fighting off the effects of the tranquilizer. Storm came gracefully to his side, kneeling beside the drowsy man. As soon as her hand came to rest on his shoulder, his muscles instantly relaxed, his childlike mind taking control once again. He turned to look up at Ororo, and she forgave him all sins.

In the eyes of a child, one will see his emotions openly - A free to read as an open book, and all stirring about intensely; The forewarnings of a coming storm or a sunny day. Storm took his hand, pulling the sleepy eyed Mort to his feet and leading him, staggering, to where Scott was waiting in the door way.

Ororo's eyes darkened threateningly when the visored man attempted to slip a pair of restraining cuffs onto the unsuspecting man's wrists. Scott, whom often thought better of arguing against a woman, matched her stare, as she knew he was doing even with out actually seeing his eyes. "Storm, you know it's necessary. There are children in this building, and he's killed with out a second thought." Without a single word more, he clamped the restraints onto Mort's wrists, pinning them behind his back. He obviously would have liked to add a muzzle and leg shackles to the list, but the fight that would have ensued after making the suggestion was enough to subdue his pride - He left it alone.

Storm lead the sleepy frog-man down the long hall of cells, stopping when she came to one suited for his needs and mutation. Wolverine, whom had accompanied her down the hall, for no apparent reason, offered a bestial growl as she stepped into the cell behind Mort.

This would be where Mort would stay whilst they repaired his original quarters. Mort was asleep on almost instantly, Storm kneeling beside him and dabbing at the cuts and bruises he had caused to himself in his fit. When she had considerably bloodied the hem of her night gown, she stood, leaving the cell and locking the door, as required behind her.

* * *

** A note on the comments about Schizophrenia;**

**I'm really not sure what it is Mort has, and if I said some where in there that he _was_ schizo, I didn't mean it. Because of a morbid fascination with Schizophrenia I've been going through, or at least _was_ when the seventh grade year began, I've done a great bit of research. **

**If your assumptions of Schizo come from the split personality bit I previously mentioned in the story, please understand that there _is_ a difference between Schizo and Split personality. If anything, he might be both... But I'd have to say, to be sure, he has _split personality_**.

**Any way, thankyou to all my readers and reviewers! This has made my seventh grade year a great deal more easy, you know, just being able to retreat to read and write... Kind of nice! **

Bronzeiris


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